


Pure

by jenfurlee (orphan_account)



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 21:24:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13644732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/jenfurlee
Summary: The first thing newly freed Franky Doyle wants to do is not exactly what Bridget Westfall expected.





	Pure

“So what’s the first thing this newly free woman wants to do?” Bridget asked drumming her fingertips against the steering wheel of the sportscar she had rented for the weekend in honor of Franky’s release. The price tag had been hefty, but the look on the brunette’s face when Bridget beeped the horn was absolutely priceless. She would have paid triple the amount to see that genuine smile slowly take over Franky’s face again and again.  
  
“Honest answer?” Franky asked biting her lip and twirling her straight locks between her fingers. Bridget had never seen the woman perform such an innocent and feminine act before, and she couldn’t help it as her lips curled upwards into a smile. She nodded softly in reply, unable to formulate a proper response. “I’d love to take a bath,” the former inmate stated so softly if the radio had been a notch louder, Bridget would have missed it entirely.  
  
“We can make that happen,” she responded as she drove in the direction of her neighborhood. She tentatively reached her hand to give Franky’s jean clad leg a gentle and reassuring squeeze. Without a moment of hesitation, Franky took the hand in hers and did not let it go as she peered out the window at the passing scenery that had been just beyond her view for over three years. She was finally free. 

 

“This is un-fuckin’-believable,” Franky said in awe with wide eyes. Bridget was in the process of giving her the official tour of her small, but perfect home. She couldn’t remember the last woman she had brought home, let alone a woman that was just released from prison less than an hour before.  
  
The one part of her home Bridget was in love more than the rest was her en suite bathroom. The centerpiece was her deep, lion's foot tub, which had been one of the deciding factors on buying the home. It was odd, in her modern and “quirky” home with red and green accent walls, the old fashioned tub should have been out of place. For some reason, it contrasted nicely with her walk-in shower complete with jade-green tile. With a smile, she began to turn the faucets to fill the oversized tub.  
  
“I have some oils and bath things if you want to add them,” Bridget stated pointing toward the small table under the lightswitch. Franky began to take her time, looking closely at the small bottles and occasionally bringing one up to her nose.  
  
“These all smell good, I can’t decide,” Franky blushed feeling Bridget’s eyes on her from the edge of the tub.  
  
“Can I make a suggestion?” Franky nodded quickly with gratitude written over her face. Bridget had already knew exactly what would help put Franky’s anxiety at ease. She carefully picked up a few small glass vials of essential oils before mixing them together and adding them into the stream of water pouring from the faucet. She then added a capful of moisturizing bubbles that soon began to take over the top layer of the rushing water.  
  
Franky had begun to undress her many layers slowly as she watched Bridget silently work her magic. It took her several uncoordinated moments to manage all of the buttons on her red plaid shirt. She had been so used to pulling the plain, white singlets over her head each day, she was unaccustomed to the delicate work that her nimble fingers used to perform so quickly.  
  
“I’ll leave you be.” Bridget smiled as she finished her work on the bath. She turned towards the door averting her eyes from the woman undressing. The last thing she wanted to do was cause the young woman to startle. Instantly her hand was engulfed in the warm heat of another. Daring to turn back, her blue eyes locked on bright green.  
  
“Please stay?” The voice that spoke was not that of the Franky Doyle to which Bridget had grown so accustomed. The voice that spoke was...vulnerable.  
  
“Always.” She promised.


End file.
